Quixotic
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Post ep for Jack-Knife in two parts. McGee and Tony go to lunch. Then other events occur, because that's what happens in stories.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: NCIS may be a television show, but Newtons are fruit and cake!

Spoilers: Through _Jack-Knife_.

Summary: McGee unintentionally helps Tony. Twice. Then other things happen.

* * *

McGee had regretted agreeing to go out to lunch with Tony from the moment they'd gotten into the elevator. Now that they were seated at a table, it was becoming unbearable. "Move your fat head. I can barely see out the window!"

"What is so important out there that you need to see?" McGee asked in reply, not taking his eyes off the menu at Tony's odd choice of restaurant. "What exactly drew you to this particular vegetarian bistro? The wide selection of organic beers? Or the tempting mushroom-seitan burger?" Even the words tasted bad as he said them. "Look, I'm all for healthy eating, but do I have to suffer because you've gained weight? I'll give you my personal trainer's number if that would help." He waited for a response, but Tony was intent on staring out the window. "There's a burger place right across the street, which is where I thought we were going when you parked the car. We could…"

"We can't go there! That would be insanity!"

"Um…" McGee turned slowly to look over his shoulder at the restaurant in question, only to feel a strong kick under the table. "Hey!"

"Don't look! It's bad enough we had to park across the street! Right in front of it!"

McGee didn't make any attempt to be discreet when he turned this time. It took him a few moments, but he suddenly realized that he had not been invited to lunch; he had been unwittingly roped into a potentially personally damaging stakeout. Before he had fully turned back to the table, he did his best to growl, "What the hell were you thinking?"

The affronted waiter took a step back. "Excuse me, sir, but I didn't come up with the lunch specials!"

"Sorry! I meant, um, my friend…I didn't mean to…" He looked across the table for help.

For his part, Tony continued to stare out the window. The waiter instantly softened. "Oh, he does have the lovelorn look. Word to the wise, honey – if he wants the sugar on another table, let him have it. You can do better." With a wink, he laid a piece of paper on the table. "I'll give you a few more minutes with the menu."

It took only the confirmation that he'd just been given the waiter's phone number for McGee to stand and pull on his coat. Tony made a frantic lunge to the side. "McGee! Sit!"

"No. We're not staying here so you can spy on them!"

"I…" Tony looked up at him, expression shifting from guilty to aghast. "I'm insulted. I happen to enjoy…" he glanced down at the menu. "Tofu?"

"Nice try. Let's go."

Tony stood and grabbed his lapel. "Fine, you go. I'll stay here to make sure…"

"What?" McGee interrupted. "That Ziva has a nice lunch?"

"With the meathead? I don't think that's possible. I'm here to make sure he doesn't whack her over the head with a club and drag her back to his cave by her hair."

McGee shook his head and attempted the look of disapproval that his parents had always used to make him feel like he was making a childish mistake, as recently as last month. "Damon is a perfectly, um, pleasant guy, now that he's off the drugs."

"Fine. _You_ date him."

Realizing that he wouldn't be able to physically remove a sulky DiNozzo from Luna's Organix of DC, McGee played his trump card. "I'll call Gibbs."

Tony grinned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Gibbs can't drive."

"So he'll need a ride. I'm sure Ducky will be happy to bring him down."

"Hm, Ducky. That means he'll work his psychological abracadabras on me and…okay. You win this round, Mc Logic bomb."

"Tony, I can guarantee that doesn't mean what you think it means."

He smirked as he picked up his coat. "Don't forget your note from your buddy."

McGee tucked the paper into his pocket and gave a curt nod to the waiter waving from behind the counter. "I was just being polite."

"Oh, so you're allowed to be polite? But I'm not allowed to do my probie, for whom I am personally responsible, the courtesy of…get down!"

McGee resisted as Tony dragged him behind an SUV. "There's a Cantonese place around the corner. Let's go there."

Tony waved him off. "You go. I've got a good view from here. Are they sharing onion rings?"

"Tony, we're going."

"But I…" He hung his head and allowed himself to be dragged down the block.

His desultory act continued as they sat in a booth in a restaurant with no view. He ordered and drank a Mai Tai, about which McGee said nothing. McGee even thought he was going to be able to enjoy his sweet and sour pork when it arrived until Tony asked, "Hey, could you get your mutt to go after him?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your dog, he was an attack dog, right? So we can run to your place, grab him, and set him on that jerk just as he leaves the place smelling like a big fat hamburger."

McGee carefully pushed his fork further away, understanding, not for the first time, why Ziva made threats involving everyday objects. "First of all, Jethro is not a mutt; he's a purebred German Shepherd who was trained as a drug-sniffing dog, not an attack dog. And second, he loves Ziva. She comes and takes him running with her every weekend."

Tony stopped trying to suck the very last drops of his drink through his straw as he started to cough. "Wait, you mean your dog loves Ziva?"

"Who else would I be talking about?"

Tony waved his hand vaguely as he continued to clear his throat. "She runs all the way to Silver Spring to pick up your dog? Since when?"

"She drives. There's a trail that she takes Jethro on that he…how did we get on this topic? Oh, right. You're trying to take out Damon Werth, while making my dog an accessory!"

"Gimme a break. I haven't eaten all day and I just had a drink."

"Are you really that vain? Your nose was better after a week and it's not like it healed crooked."

He was suddenly on the receiving end of the look he had tried on Tony earlier. "It took more than a week."

"Whatever. I just think you should let it go."

Tony gained a sudden intensity. "We got tied up, smacked around and held hostage, McGee! I'm not just letting go after going through all that to…" He snapped back into a casual attitude when the smiling waitress delivered their lunches. When she had departed with Tony's request for a second drink, he said, "If you're collecting numbers, McGee, get hers. Much hotter than the dude from the last place, unless you've made lifestyle choices you've chosen not to share that don't involve McNovels."

McGee was too confused to react to the intended insult, saying only, "You really shouldn't drink on an empty stomach."

"Good thing we're eating, huh?"

After a few bites, McGee suggested, "Maybe he's leaving soon."

"Next week. Ziva said he bumped it back to 'take care of a few things' here. I didn't ask for more details, but I've used my investigatory skills to determine that he'll be putting a checkmark next to 'lunch with Probie' on his to-do list."

McGee shook his head. "I thought you two had really settled down after your trip to Paris."

He didn't reply, turning his attention to the waitress as she set his drink on the table. "Hey, thanks. Y'know, my friend here is shy, but he'd really like to…"

She held up her left hand, to McGee's further embarrassment. "I'm married."

"Sorry, he's…" She had fled from their table before McGee could conclude, "An idiot. What did you do that for?"

"I was just trying to help."

"Like you're trying to save Ziva from Werth? I think she can handle herself."

Tony pushed away the remnants of his second drink, and then shocked McGee by paying for the entire meal, including a generous tip. "We should get back to the office."

"Thanks for lunch."

"Think of it as a bribe to never mention this."

"Not a problem." McGee was pleased to see that Ziva and Damon were no longer eating when they got back to the car. "I should probably drive."

"Why?"

"Well, you had two cocktails…"

"Virgin Mai Tais." McGee suddenly realized that he'd only seen Tony point to the menu, not actually heard him order the drink. He was already starting the car when McGee realized he should get in. "Funny how you think I'm stupid enough to drink during lunch."

"Tony…"

"I can see how you might assume that, given the other stupid things I'm inclined to do during lunch."

McGee held his tongue on the ride back to NCIS. The afternoon was uneventful, until Ziva followed him into the bathroom. "Thank you."

"Um…"

"For what you did today, McGee," she clarified, though he'd already been pretty clear on what she meant. His lack of response was mostly due to the uncomfortable sensation in his lower abdomen.

He backed up until he bumped into a urinal. "Look, I…"

"I assume he tricked you into it from the look on your face when you saw us."

"Ziva, I…"

Not noticing his discomfiture, she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "I will not bring you into it when I talk to him – and I _will_ be talking to him – but I wanted you to know that I am grateful."

She had slipped back through the door before he could reply. He jumped again when he had gotten to business as a toilet flushed. He glanced over his shoulder as a man emerged from a stall. "You Major Case people are like a soap opera!" the man said with a wide smile before walking straight to the door.

McGee spent the remainder of his time in the bathroom reminding himself to employ his used paper towel to touch the door handle. He wasn't sure whether to be pleased or nervous when he returned to an empty bullpen.


	2. Chapter 2

Ziva didn't pause as she strode into the bullpen, though she did note that Gibbs had absented himself. Hopefully he wasn't using his conference room, as she was sorely in need of a small metal mausoleum in which to…have a conversation. She nearly walked through her desk in her rush. "Elevator. Now."

Tony obediently jumped out of his chair and came close to treading on her heels as he followed her. She did her best not to indicate her mood as they waited for the doors to open. He leaned closer to whisper, "I'll have to thank McGee."

"Try not to do it so sarcastically. He is the reason you are not already a eunuch."

"Uhhh…great. Now all I can think about is that scene from _History of the World, Part I_ where…"

He didn't stop talking as she physically encouraged him into the elevator, stopping someone else from joining them by handing over her backup sidearm and largest knife with the command, "Hold these for me." The startled woman from Legal accepted without a word. Ziva had no doubt that her weapons would be waiting when the doors reopened, but she had more important issues to face at the moment. She allowed the elevator to descend slightly before hitting the emergency stop.

Tony had not stopped to take a breath during his description, which was ongoing. "…and the third guy is so unresponsive that the Centurion says, 'He's dead.' Then she moves on to Gregory Hines and the feather on the fan…"

"Stop. Now."

"Sure, but…it's a good movie. That's all. Have you seen it?"

She shook her head, as much to say no as to acknowledge that she wasn't buying into his halfhearted attempts at distraction. "You know why I want to talk with you, yes?"

"You're unarmed, so I'm guessing…"

"Do not guess," she interrupted. Turning to face him, she threw back her shoulders and drew up her full height. "I am _not_ the girl."

The only explanation for what occurred next was…no, there was no reasonable explanation. She found herself rendered completely speechless as he added a little squeeze and asked, "Are you wearing a padded bra?"

She finally called together the capacity to shove his hands off her chest. "What is wrong with you?"

"What? You said you're not a girl! In spite of my previous tactile experience, I had to check. Since my results were inconclusive as a result of lingerie augmentation, I may have to dig a little deeper."

She pushed his hands away more forcefully as he made it as far as her belt buckle. "First of all, I said I am not _the_ girl, not that I am not _a_ girl."

"But…"

"Don't make me cut off both your hands in addition to castrating you."

He tried to cover the fact that he was moving as far away as possible with hooked index fingers. "So I can have hooks? That might be cool."

"Until you are lonely. Not that it will matter after the castration."

"Be hard when I have to pee, too. And can you stop saying 'castration'? I know you handed over your knife, but…"

"I handed over _one_ of my knives."

"Yeah, exactly."

She allowed him to cower in the corner as she continued with what she had planned to say, "If anything, McGee is 'the girl' on our team. He is sensitive and friendly and optimistic. For example, I am sure he thought you were inviting him to lunch as a friend today, as opposed to conning him into spying on Damon and I."

"Yeah, about that…"

"I do not want to hear stupid excuses. I want an apology, and not just because you were caught."

"Well, if I hadn't been…okay, I'd still feel ashamed, but that wouldn't be as bad as finding out you…he may not be on drugs anymore, but…he's not…he broke my nose!"

"Let it go, Tony."

"I would, but you keep threatening to cut it off!"

She made a dismissive gesture. "You can keep _that_."

"Uh, thanks. And, for the record, I'm sorry for stalking you at lunch, but I still think Werth is a creep."

"I do not agree."

"Yeah, I noticed." He was still carefully guarding his groin, but he was no longer pressing against the wall. He had seemed to understand that he couldn't get far enough away from her in the elevator to prevent the inevitable, should she choose to attack. It was an idle threat, but a useful one. "What do you see in him?"

"He is sweet. He is nice to talk with. He does not mock every other word out of my mouth."

"I don't…"

"He paid for lunch."

"I bought McGee lunch."

She ignored his protest, continuing, "He understands what it is like to…" She swallowed hard, not wanting to go into details. "We understand each other."

He stepped closer, no longer trying to protect himself. "I might understand if you'd talk to me."

"It is not something that can…" She backed into the wall. "This is why I like Damon. It does not have to be spelled out."

"So you need a guy who can relate to torture."

"I need…" She was still processing the first part of his statement when she realized what he had said. "Well. We are finally acknowledging the hippopotamus in the room."

"Elephant. Although it's big enough that a whole zoo might be hanging out and we…look, the analogy's not important. I know you don't want to talk about it and that Damon probably gets something that I can't…"

"It is not a good thing that…"

"I know. It's never something that we'll have in common and I get that. But…is that all you have with him? Because …I thought that we were…after Paris…"

"We shared a bed, Tony."

"I thought that was a good sign. You barely even kicked me. And we…I thought we had a good time. We were getting along and…"

"We were getting along here until you decided my judgment cannot be trusted."

She could tell he was fighting back a biting comeback, which, if she were honest with herself, she probably deserved, but he said, "I just worry. I…you almost…I'd go get you again, but I don't want it to come to that."

"What does that have to do with Damon?"

"Uh…sorry. I was talking about us."

"Us?"

"That's English. Means you," he pointed to her, "and me," he concluded, pointing to himself. "The two of us, together…" He glanced around. "In an elevator."

"Tony…"

"What? What do you want me to say?"

"Just…whatever you are thinking."

"Really?"

"Yes," she confirmed reluctantly.

He considered her thoughtfully for a few moments. "Can I touch your boobs again?"

"No!"

He shrugged. "Worth a try."

"So we are through talking seriously?" She wondered when he had gained such firm control of the tone of the conversation.

He surprised her with a quick shift. "I'll leave you alone. If you want to be with Damon, I'll…I'll just spend more time with McGee. As a friend."

"I am glad you have my back, but…"

"I should have it from a little further away?"

They both jumped as her phone rang. "It is Gibbs."

"Probably making sure I'm still alive."

"Then why did he call me?"

"Because…are you gonna answer that?"

"Let's just go back upstairs."

She knew her phone would begin to ring again if she let it go to voicemail, so she answered, "Gibbs. We will be there in a moment."

"Good, because O'Connell looks like she's getting sick of holding your stuff, David."

She snapped her phone back on her belt. Before she restarted the elevator, she asked, "Would you like to have dinner tonight?"

"Dinner, huh?" He pretended to consider her offer. "Hm. That's like double-lunch."

"Do not make it a competition."

"But I'm winning!" She didn't dignify his comment with a response, pressing the button for their floor. He instantly became concerned. "Aren't I?"

"We will discuss it over dinner, among other things."

He gave her a tight smile in response. She was just accepting her weapons from Agent O'Connell.


End file.
